


The Dead of Night

by SucculentStrawberries



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bed-Wetting, Bonding, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s11e04 Arachnids in the UK, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Late Night Conversations, Laundry, Male-Female Friendship, Nightmares, Omorashi, One Shot, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Self-Indulgent, Sleep Deprivation, Spoilers, but also too excitable for 4am, just for the first episode, lost loved ones, not technically but since bed falls into that category, takes place after, the doctor is old and tired and sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 00:22:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17032719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SucculentStrawberries/pseuds/SucculentStrawberries
Summary: He's awake in the middle of the graveyard hours, walking alone through the ship and feeling miserable, when he bumps into The Doctor. As they talk and listen to the steady drum of the washing machine, he finds that her sleep schedule isn't any better than his, and the woman who seems to be so happy may be carrying some baggage of her own...





	The Dead of Night

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I started this shortly after 'Stuck' (I saw the Spider Episode and immediately had this idea), but put it on the backburner for a bit because I don't actually care much for bedwetting. BUT the idea wouldn't leave me because it was a good excuse for late night bonding and it's _so hard_ to find any 13 and Ryan content (Like I love 13/Yaz and I know his arc needed to focus on Graham so I understand why we haven't gotten it in the show yet, but these two are both chaotic good with impulse control and they need to hang out)! This is honestly a gen fic but it's going on my kink account because I refuse to put omo on main c': 
> 
> It's intended to be read as gen/platonic but if you get ship feels from it, I won't stop you. I will encourage you actually. Please join me in rarepair city, on the corner of multishipper avenue.
> 
> Anyway enjoy this while I work on actual omo fics and the second half of 'Tear You Apart'.
> 
> Also pour one out for tumblr tonight... Join me on DreamWidth at smooch_sloth c;

He woke up with a jolt, his breath coming in deep, heaving gasps. His heart was blasting so hard that he thought it was going to burst in his chest, a frantic thumping that went all the way up into his throat, threatening to choke him. Darkness surrounded him as his eyes darted from shadow to shadow, struggling to make out anything. Where was he? How long had he been here? All he could remember was-  
  
Taking in gulps of air, he sat up and buried his head in his hands, squeezing his eyes shut. No, he wasn't about to relive that. He was awake now. It didn't matter. That affirmation didn't ease the way his entire body was shaking, his fingers trembling as they massaged his face, or the sheen of cold sweat drenching his skin. His old t-shirt was clinging to his chest and back, and the tightness made it even harder to calm down. He rushed to yank it off, limbs tangling a couple of times or the collar catching on his chin before he managed to shed his second skin. The ball hit the floor with a dull thump, and he finally opened his eyes again to stare at the dark blue ceiling, the dimly glowing pattern embedded in it slowly giving him something to focus on. He couldn't remember what it was called, some home language of their host's, but the golden circles and lines were almost hypnotizing, fading in and out of each other as they ran through a cycle.   
  
His breath didn't come easily, but it did start to even out, and he finally shifted to stretch. That was when he realized his boxers were clinging just as tightly as his shirt had. Even tighter, actually. It was too wet, and too cold, to just be sweat. A curse slipped from his lips, and he started to scoot back to squint at them, only to feel the blankets and bedsheets had the exact same texture.   
  
 _Shit._  
  
And just like that, whatever bit of calm he'd just started to find had collapsed, his chest tightening up again and his pulse throbbing in his neck and ears. Chucking the covers back, he swung his legs over the side and pushed off like the damp patch was lava, scrambling to stand up. He already had fistfuls of damp sheet bunched in his hands and had started pulling when his knees threatened to buckle under him, forcing him to hold on for an entirely different purpose. The ground felt unsteady, every muscle from his thighs to his calves shaking like he was standing in the middle of a fissure, and he had to sit back down to sink into the edge of the mattress, swallowing the lump in his throat.  
  
 _Shit Shit Shit..._  
  
Whatever. He could deal with this.   
  
He _had_ to deal with it. He didn't exactly have a choice to leave it alone.   
  
It took him another couple of minutes, sitting in silence and trying to get his bearings, but he finally managed to stop shaking, even if his heart was still pounding with nerves. That second time he slid off of the bed, he did succeed in pulling off the sheets and blankets, gathering them all up into a pile on the floor where he'd thrown his shirt. His boxers were quickly dropped on top, and he let air huff from his lips as he trudged towards the dresser, pulling out fresh clothes.  
  
Once he was dressed in dry underwear and a new sleepshirt, baggy grey sweatpants hanging from his waist, he gathered up the bundle and crept towards his bedroom door, feeling his way along instead of risking the bright lamp. He held his breath as he reached the doorframe, listening at the edge for any danger. Nothing greeted him except for the hum of the TARDIS, and he exhaled, slipping through the crack and beginning his barefooted journey into the unknown.  
  
He wasn't usually paranoid, but the ship was definitely unsettling once everyone has gone to bed. The strange architecture made it hard to distinguish what was a normal wall or decoration and what was a shadow that wasn't supposed to be there, and he found himself double-checking everything that reached the corner of his eyes. The hallways weren't just dimmed, most were almost pitch black, only broken up by occasional patches of shifting glimmers to illuminate the turns or door signs. The Doctor had warned them about the blackouts on the first night they'd spent here and given them flashlights (which he now cursed himself for forgetting to bring, not that he could've carried it). She was still getting used to the remodel and fiddling with certain settings, said it would take a couple of weeks before she got everything stabilized. Of course, she'd also said it shouldn't have been much of a problem for them since it was only at night, when they didn't move far from their rooms, but then again, she hadn't expected one of them to have to make a trip to the laundry room at _who knew what hour._  
  
Shaking his head, he felt around the wall to follow a left turn, trying to keep his eyes peeled for the next sign. Honestly, he had no idea how to even find what he needed, since as far as he could tell, everything except for a few important rooms seemed to change locations on a whim. Another adventure, he supposed. Even if it was one that sucked.  
  
He was pulled from his brooding as a sound finally caught his attention, one that sent a chill up his spine. A dull clicking, definitely shoes on tile, and growing louder with every beat. There, several feet ahead, was a dark silhouette, highlighted by the golden glow of the honeycomb walls behind it. He recognized that haircut and ridiculous outfit for the split second before the light faded, and it sent his heart leaping into his throat. Panic took over as he ducked into the first alcove he spotted, pressing his back against the wall and closing his eyes, chills of sweat beading on his forehead.  
  
The footsteps were coming closer and closer, and he froze entirely, making sure not to move a muscle and staying silent. He would have held his breath, but it had already been choked out of him. Slow, steady strides, each thumping in his ears like a drum, and he knew she was _right next_ to the turn.  
  
And then the footsteps passed him by.   
  
A small miracle, for all his rotten luck, and he sent a mental prayer thanking whoever was up there, looking out for him even in space.  
  
That thanks was immediately answered with footsteps lunging back around the corner, a loud buzz that scared him into opening his eyes, and a grin that seemed to leer at him in the dark.   
  
"Thought ya' could hide from me, did ya'?!? That's alright, I love a good game of hide'n'seek! _Lurking_ around corners in the dark, just _waiting_ for me to find ya'... nobody's _ever_ hidden from me. I'm the best seeker there is! _Especially_ when I never invited them to play in the first place... Now, tell me what you're doing here!"   
  
Suddenly, the buzzing thing between them erupted into a searingly bright light, and as he flinched and squinted, the manic edge in The Doctor's tone seemed to melt away in an instant, and he was left with the regular smile as she dimmed the Sonic's light to something more tolerable, chuckling to herself. _"Ryan!_ Fancy seeing you here at this hour! My bad, saw something big and lumpy in the shadows, figured it was an invader! But you're not an invader, you're just good ol' Ryan, buried under a mountain of cloth! Ya' really had me going there for a moment!" Giving him a slap on the back that he really wasn't in the mood to return, given that _his bloody life_ had just _flashed before his eyes,_ she sighed contentedly, calming down a bit. Her gaze took him in up and down, fixing on the bundle in his arms with the small smile still on her lips. "So, what's the _grand plan_ with all of this you've got here? Are ya' buildin' a fort, perhaps?"  
  
"I, uh..." What was he supposed to say? He hadn't had to deal with something like this in ages. And when he had, at least it was in Nan's house, somewhere familiar. Now he'd barely been here a couple of days, in some stranger's fancy ship. He could feel his throat tightening, heat rising in his face as the woman stared at him with her eyebrows flicked up, lips pressed in a thin smile. Curious, but not pressing. "I... sort of... wet the bed. Sorry. I'm not sure if you know what that means, bein' an alien and all, but-"  
  
The Doctor's expression didn't change as she interrupted him, a small act of mercy before he risked rambling on like a dumbass. "I'm well aware of how the human body works, Ryan. I have all of the basic facilities in here, after all."  
  
"Oh, er, right. Guess that's a fair point." he choked out, forcing himself to maintain eye contact no matter how badly he wanted to look away. The Doctor deserved proper respect, after all. Saving their lives, taking them in, and _this_ was how he was repaying her... "Anyway, uh... like I said, I'm sorry. _Won't happen again,_ I swear. Now-" His voice cracked on the word, and he coughed into his arm to cover it (not that he had much dignity to save at this point) before glancing back at her. "Now, if you could just point me to wherever you, uh, wash the clothes?"  
  
A hand flitted to his shoulder for a second. "It's alright. I'll take care of it."   
  
Shrugging it off, he shook his head. "No no, you really don't have to-"  
  
"You're my _guest."_ she insisted.  
  
"But it's _my_ mess, you shouldn't have to-"  
  
 _"I'm_ the only one who knows how to work the wash!" Before he could argue anymore, she had already lunged forward and snatched the bundle of cloth from his arms, craning her neck to see around it. She looked like it was going to swallow her up, honestly. "I might miss being taller, just a tad..." she muttered, and he wasn't sure if she was just babbling to herself or talking to him. "Is this everything? I can deal with the mattress once this is taken care of."  
  
"Uh, yeah, that's everything..." he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry for keeping you up."  
  
"Ryan, you don't have to keep apologizing. _It's alright._ Besides, I don't sleep much anyways. If anything, you've spared me from a spell of boredom!"  
  
He had to raise his eyebrows at that, once again incredulous at how strange ( _low_ ) The Doctor's standards for entertainment were. "You'd rather be doing _this_ than... whatever it is you do in here?"  
  
"Well, there's not much to do when you're all asleep." she countered, making her way down the twisting hallway, with those strange golden columns lining the sides flickering to cast a dim light as she passed them. "At least I've got some company now!" Her grin faltered slightly. "Unless you're too tired, of course! If you'd rather go back to sleep, I think I've got one of those 'sleeping bags' somewhere that you can rest in until your room's ready again!" she offered, stopping to turn and look up at him. Well, look at what bit she could see around the laundry pile.  
  
"Nah, I'll stay up. Least I can do is chat with ya'. And I'd like to see what your crazy washin' machine looks like." He forced a chuckle as they rounded the corner. He didn't want to trouble The Doctor with fetching a sleeping bag, and... he didn't feel right, sleeping like a bum while she was busy fixing his problems.   
  
Well, that was what he tried to tell himself. If he was honest... he just didn't want to go back to sleep again. Not right now. Talking to her... it was uncomfortable, but at least he had someone with him.  
  
"Well, you might be _a tad_ disappointed. When I had the TARDIS add it in, I chose one of the models from an Earth catalogue. Figured it would help the Team's adjustment if there was a little piece of home here for you all." There was a hint of a smile on her lips as she stepped towards a sealed compartment, the honeycomb pattern disintegrating until there was an open doorway. He followed her in, soon finding himself in what was actually... a pretty normal room, with rows of white cubes lining the walls, and two slightly bigger versions of the machines sitting in the center. The only difference was how strange the walls and ceiling were, matching the same materials the rest of the ship interior was decorated in.  
  
"You really weren't kidding. This looks like a proper old laundry room."  
  
"Do you find it comforting? I always have. Laundromats, like those quiet ones in the less-traveled corners of cities. They've got this strange energy to them, almost subliminal. Kind of sleepy, but _alive_ at the same time, awake. Just a steady rumble, and all those perfumes in the air, and all the people you meet... You meet _a lot_ of interesting folks in places like that."  
  
"Are you always this optimistic?" In the short time he'd known The Doctor, she seemed so impressed by things he'd never paid much attention to. All of the _awesome_ things she'd seen, whole civilizations and futures and fantastic inventions, and she cared about a bloody laundromat? Shaking his head, he stared at the machine. "I always found it boring when I was dragged there. Too quiet. Nothing to do but sit or sort clothes."  
  
"Well, I suppose it isn't for everyone. I've sometimes found the quietest moments are the most unappreciated, but they make for nice memories. Only in small doses though, haha!" Chuckling, she set her bundle down on the floor, then stood to start tapping away at the washer buttons. "Like ya' said, too much just makes it _too_ quiet! You and me, Ryan, we've gotta _move around,_ we've gotta _do things!_ Like _pushing buttons,_ eh?" she waggled her eyebrows, and he tried not to hate her for bringing up yet _another_ one of his mistakes.  
  
Sure, if he hadn't pushed that thing in the woods, he might not have even _met_ The Doctor, so he guessed he should be glad for it. But that didn't mean he wanted to dwell on _everything else_ that had come from that decision. He decided to shift the subject back around. _  
_  
"Hey, if you ordered an Earth washer, how come you wouldn't let me work it? Looks like I could've handled it just fine."  
  
"It's still part of the ship. And since things are still adjusting to the remodel, I think she'll only recognize my touch. Might think you're an intruder."  
  
"An intruder who snuck onboard to wash some sheets?" he scoffed, rolling his eyes at her.   
  
"You'd be surprised!" Satisfied with the settings, she shoved the whole bundle inside at once and shut the door, then opened the sliding compartment and turned to rifle through a side shelf on the wall. "What sort of scents do you prefer? I've got the basics, like 'Fresh Linen' or 'Lavender'. Ooh, if you want something more out of the box, I recommend 'Zolfa-Thuran Cactus Bloom', it smells lovely! Not like the blooms on your planet, it's... well, it's difficult to describe. But you'd probably like it! Here, smell it!"  
  
Jerking away from the spiky bottle she was trying to shove towards his nose, he shook his head. "I don't wanna smell it! Something regular is fine! Just... whatever linen stuff you've got over there." He was already beginning to regret choosing to stay with The Doctor. She was nice, but after the night he'd had, he wasn't sure he had the patience for her enthusiasm and chatter. He was tired, and uncomfortable, and at least three other emotions he didn't want to dig into.  
  
"Oh... alright. Here you go then." Screwing the cap back onto the first container, she put it away and came back with the plain blue bottles, carefully measuring the detergent and softener into their places. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have forced it into your face like that. I just thought you'd enjoy experiencing something new and exciting, even if it was just soap."   
  
The hint of sadness in her smile stung, even as fed up as he was. He might as well have kicked a puppy. Reaching up to scratch the back of his neck, he sighed. "You don't have to talk like that, it's not your fault. Normally I'd be down for it. I'm just... tired."  
  
"Oh? You're free to nap on that sofa over there." she offered, pointing towards a break in the left-hand wall of machines, where a flat teal cushion sat. It was more of a bench than a sofa, kind of like the ones in doctors' office waiting rooms. He couldn't help wondering if she'd gotten it because of a mix-up with her name. "This will take a while to wash and dry."   
  
"How long?"  
  
"About forty minutes for each cycle. Actually, a little less for drying if I turn up the heat. Would you like me to? I'll turn up the heat." Reaching over to turn the heat setting on the other machine up to 'More Dry' for later, she glanced back at him. "Yep, so that would be seventy minutes total. A little over an hour's a nice nap by human standards, isn't it?"   
  
"This whole place can shoot through time, but we still have to wait on the dryer? It isn't just, like, Poof! Done?" he huffed, gesturing with his hands. "Couldn't it turn into, like, a mini time machine or somethin'?"  
  
"I'm afraid not. Well, _maybe_ it could. Probably. _Most definitely._ Geez, now I _really_ wanna try it!" She grinned, starting to turn back towards the machine, but then her face fell, a sigh falling from her lips. "But I probably shouldn't test that until the TARDIS finishes adjusting to her remodel. _And_ until I readjust to mine." Letting one hand shift to toy with the ends of her hair, she started to pace towards the cushion, pausing in front of it. "Still getting the hang of controlling her and listening to signals. New mental state and all, personality, ways of thinking. Despite what they say about telepathy, it isn't as easy as reading each other's minds."  
  
"Can't say I know much about that. I'm sure you'll get the hang of it though. You're doin' alright so far."  
  
"You think so? That's good to hear." A thin smile slipped back onto her face. "I want you three to be comfortable here. And speaking of comfortable, you should really try out this sofa! It'll do wonders for your back!"  
  
"I'm not looking for a nap, Doctor. I'll stay right here." he muttered, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest. "Thanks though."  
  
"What? But you just said you were tired!"  
  
"I also said I'd stay up with ya'."  
  
"You don't have to do that, Ryan. I'm used to being on my own at night, it won't bother me. If you need rest, go ahead and take it! I'll wake you once the laundry's done."  
  
" 'm fine, Doctor, really."   
  
"You don't look fine..." The Doctor murmured, glancing him over more intensely than she had back in the hallway, eyebrows knitting together. "Listen, I won't press you to lie down. But answer one question for me. Are you _really_ interested in staying up with me, or can you just not bring yourself to go back to sleep?"  
  
There didn't seem to be any judgement in the question. Just a genuine wish to know what his intentions were, one way or the other.   
  
"What if I said it was a bit o' both?"  
  
"Then I guess I couldn't argue with you, could I?" The Doctor shrugged, plopping down onto the seat and scooting towards one side of it, folding her arms back behind her head. "Well, we've still got over an hour to kill. We can still chat, can't we? Or I guess I could do all the talking, if ya' don't feel like it. I'm real good at that. Small talk, chatter, the whole lot."  
  
"Trust me Doctor, I know. We _all_ know." he sighed, dropping into the space beside her and resting his head in one hand on the wooden armrest. He didn't mean any offense by it, but if there was one thing he'd learned in his short time traveling with her, it was that The Doctor almost _never_ shut up. So he guessed he'd better at least try to get a few words in, unless he wanted to hear a rambling lecture on something way above his knowledge for over sixty minutes.   
  
Glancing back over at the woman, he couldn't help a hint of amusement slipping onto his face, now that the thought had occurred to him. "So do ya' wear those things twenty-four-seven? Don't you have sleep clothes or somethin'?" Really, it had to be at least three or four in the morning by now. Or whatever the equivalent was on a spaceship in the middle of some weird wobbly timestream. What mattered is that it _felt_ late, at least.  
  
"I _do,_ actually! And they're _every bit_ as _stylish_ as this outfit!" The Doctor scoffed. "But there's not much point wearin' 'em unless I'm actually going to sleep, is there?"  
  
"So what were you up to, before ya' tried to blast me?"  
  
"Oh, nothing much. I was just on a stroll. Still getting used to the new layout. Figured I might as well be your bodyguards too, if anything did happen to pop up. Can't be too careful!"  
  
"Do you do that a lot? Just walk around in the dark like some kinda ghost?"  
  
"Well, this _was_ called _The Ghost Monument!"_ The Doctor looked _too damn pleased_ with herself for that one, snickering as he rolled his eyes and groaned for her to _'Buzz off'_. However, once he half-heartedly pushed at her shoulder and she settled down from her laughter, she brought her hands down to rest on her knees, leaning forward in her seat. He followed her gaze to the clothes spinning in the wash, swooping over and under the churning sea of froth. "But yeah, to answer your question, I do..." she murmured. "Tinkering with things is a bit too loud, I've learned, so I try to save that for when you're all awake, unless something really needs fixing. So I might nip down to the library, or watch something with the telly on low, but... I've found walking around is the best use of my time, really. Well, maybe not _the best_ use, but it's a bit of a habit by now, I suppose."  
  
"Guess Time Lord sleep habits kinda suck when you've got roommates to worry about."  
  
"It isn't _all_ bad. I get a lot done when I don't have to crawl into bed every night like you sloths!" she teased. "To be honest with you though, I _have_ been staying up even more than I should be. I tried, earlier, but I just ended up wandering again. Needed to clear my head..."  
  
"Got a lot goin' on up in there?"  
  
"Always! Usually I can manage it. But after a regeneration, it's always harder. During the day, with you all, I've got a lot to focus on, but once I'm alone and trying to rest, it all just... comes crashing in. Old lives, memories, it all gets jumbled up in the forefront, and I have to sort it all out again." she huffed, rubbing her temples. "It's like a snowglobe. You've got all kinds of little pieces swirling around, and you have to give it time to settle into place. Except instead of snow, you've just got a big mess..."  
  
"I guess someone must've been shakin' up my head too, then..." he mumbled. How many nights had it been since he was able to think straight? Or just lie there _without_ thinking?  
  
"Would it be prying if I asked what you've been thinking about?" The Doctor glanced over at him, cocking her head. "You don't have to talk about it if ya' don't want to, of course!" she was quick to add. "Sometimes talking about things just brings you back there... so I'd understand if you'd rather sweep it under the rug."  
  
That last bit was kind of an odd thing for The Doctor to say. She was usually an open book, blabbering every thought or fact in her head. But then again, how much did they really know about her?  
  
"It's..." He almost wanted to go back to the silence, just sitting here. But... if he didn't get it off his chest, it would just keep eating away at him. And he didn't want to bother Graham, so... maybe she was the safest bet. Sometimes it was easier to vent when you barely knew each other. "I just keep thinkin' about me Nan... What happened, if I could've saved her, what she'd think of all this... I know it's not gonna change nothin', and I've been tryin' to move on, but... The nights are the worst."   
  
The Doctor had her fingers steepled together, staring at him with sympathy in her eyes, and something else he couldn't quite read. Regret?   
  
"It wasn't your fault, Ryan."  
  
"I _know_ that, but... I still feel guilty. And angry, and... I dunno. I just can't _stop_ thinkin' about it. Even when I'm sleepin', she's _there_ and she's-" His breath hitched, and he had to pause, closing his eyes before his nerves could get the best of him again. All of the images were rushing back, but he was not about to _cry_ in front of The Doctor.  
  
"Nightmares?" she mused softly, reaching out to place a hand on his knee. When he nodded, she patted it, sighing. "Yeah, those are the _bloody worst._ Been having them about three-fourths of the nights since I came back. Well, the nights I slept, anyways. Did'ya wake up screaming?"  
  
"Almost. Couldn't breathe enough to get sound out."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
The only sound for the next five minutes was the tumble of the machine and the rinse cycle. He finally decided to break the silence.  
  
"What were yours about? If that isn't pryin'?"  
  
"Dead loved ones, same as you. It always comes back right after I do. Guess it's the one thing I'll be forced to remember, no matter how long I stick around." He'd rarely seen a frown on The Doctor's face, but now her lips were pressed into one far too grim for his liking. More like a war veteran than some zany space tour guide. "Like I said, there's a reason this is called The Ghost Monument." She didn't laugh that time...  
  
"I've been able to deal with most of them. They've just been repeats of that day, so even if it freaked me out while I was dreamin', I could kind of brush it off when I woke up. But tonight... it was so much worse..."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"The spiders showed up."  
  
"Oh, _Ryan..."_  
  
"She'd survived, somehow, and she was lyin' on the ground, callin' for help. And I was running towards her, y'know, that slow run you have in dreams, and just when I was almost to her, they started bursting outta the pavement. Hoards of 'em, as big as the queen, and they were _all over her,_ eating her. She was screaming, and as I was trying to get to her, one of 'em pulled me back. Started wrappin' me up like a mummy, except they left my face open so I could see everything happening... I couldn't move, I just had to listen to her, _begging_ me, and then they started eating me too, from the feet up..."  
  
The Doctor looked as sick as he felt, eyes wide like they were trying to search his soul. _"Bloody hell..."_  
  
"Yeah... Now you can see why I pissed the bed." He'd meant for it to come out as a hint of a joke, but the chuckle never came, bitterness and shame choking it out. Shaking his head, he turned his gaze to the ceiling.   
  
"Ryan, you know I'm not going to judge you for this, right?" she murmured, shifting her hand from his knee to his shoulder. "It could be way worse. Blimey, I've _done_ way worse. A puddle when you _weren't even conscious_ is nothing!"   
  
He still felt like garbage and didn't quite believe her, honestly, but it was hard not to return such a bright, _desperate-to-help_ smile with one of his own, even if he had to force it. The Doctor really was something else. "Thanks, Doctor... You know, ya' actually remind me o' her, a bit."  
  
"Really?" The Doctor looked baffled, staring up at him with round eyes and the most flattered face. You'd think he'd just compared her to a deity.   
  
"Yeah. When I was younger, for the first few months after I moved in with her, I went through stuff like this a lot. Cried like a baby every time, I was so frustrated with myself. But me Nan, she was understandin' about it, every single time. Always made me feel better."  
  
"I can't replace your Nan..." The Doctor murmured.  
  
"I know." No one could ever replace her. And he would never put that kind of pressure on someone either. "I'm just sayin', I'm glad you were here for me, I guess. I'd prob'ly _still_ be wanderin' around looking for the laundry room if ya' hadn't come."  
  
"Well, I'm glad I ran into you. It's nice... getting to talk to someone like this." she confessed. That smile was definitely sadder than it should be, but given the circumstances, he guessed he couldn't blame her. Maybe someday he could uncover more about it, cheer her up for a change...   
  
He was in the middle of fighting back a yawn when the laundry machine beeped, startling both of them into jumping in their seats so that they nearly fell out of them. Maybe it was the loopiness of sleep deprivation that caused them both to burst into giggling, or just the switch from all of the depressing topics tonight, but he found himself hunched over trying to catch his breath while she stumbled towards the machine.   
  
"Into the dryer with you all! Shoo, shoo!" Catching the flush to his face when she held out his boxers to study the pattern, she rolled her eyes, tossing them in. "Relax, I've worn them for centuries, nothin' I haven't seen before! Actually used to have a pattern just like that, glad to see they've come back into style!"  
  
"Holdin' up my underwear without a care in the world, now ya' _really do_ remind me of Nan!" he scoffed, only to recoil when she elbowed him in the stomach. _"Ow!"  
_  
"Oi', quiet you! Or I'll pull 'em out now and hang 'em on a line to dry, _right in the middle_ of the console room!" she threatened. Which honestly, didn't look very threatening with her struggling to hold back a grin, but he decided to throw her a bone and feign remorse anyways, shuffling back against the wall with an arm shielding his face.  
  
"Alright, alright, ya' win! Sorry, I take it back!"  
  
"That's what I thought!" she huffed, only to start snickering again. Good lord, they really were starting to lose it. Hopefully whatever adventure they had tomorrow wouldn't need them at the top of their game.  
  
It took them a good ten minutes to get their giggling back under control, and from then they ended up leaning on the armrests to sit in silence, rubbing at their eyes and trying their best to pretend they weren't that fuzzy, bubbly mix of utterly exhausted and about to bounce off the walls at the same time. When the dryer finally beeped, two zombie groans and a staring contest decided which one of them was going to be forced to move and gather the stuff up. They ended up trudging over together once The Doctor realized she was still the only one who could touch the machine, but him carrying the entire load was a fair trade.  
  
"Fuck." His voice was too hollow for the spark of frustration inside him, and he was sure she would have been horrified at his choice in swear words, if she wasn't also barely conscious.   
  
"What is it?" she mumbled, leaning against the dryer.   
  
"We forgot to clean the bloody mattress."  
  
"Oh yeah, I did say I was gonna deal with that... _Knew_ I was forgetting something!" She smacked at her forehead, starting to head out of the room before he stopped her.  
  
"Hang on. Ya' don't need to deal with it. You've done enough already, I'll just sleep on the floor tonight or somethin'. I'll fix it in the morning." Grimacing, he glanced down at his feet. "Not like I'm gonna sleep well anyway." He'd probably just sit on his phone until morning, at this point.   
  
The Doctor gave him another firm clap on the back, holding her hand there for a few moments. It was probably a bit more effective when she'd been tall enough to actually reach the shoulder blades and rest on them, instead of her arm just sliding down his middle back. It was the thought that counted though, he supposed. "I know it's difficult. Harder than difficult, actually..." she murmured. "The globe, you've just got to let it settle. The snowstorm'll blow over, it always does. You've just got to hunker down somewhere warm with company until it does."  
  
Why did her advice remind him of metaphors in English class? Even if he didn't always see it though, it was a nice sentiment. "I guess so..." He'd started to thank her and walk out, but she grabbed his arm.  
  
"Hey, Ryan! Remember earlier, when I asked if you were building a fort, and you weren't? Ya' wanna build a fort now?" There was that eager grin again, and comforting intentions or not, now he _knew_ the sleep deprivation had kicked in as he watched her bounce on her toes. "Come on, it'll be a blast! I've got extra blankets and pillows and some lights somewhere! And I've got sweets in the kitchen! We can have an early breakfast, dessert sandwiches! Picture it: three cakes smashed together, with custard creams inside!"  
  
Raising his eyebrows, he tried (and failed) to hide his own amused smile. "Build a blanket fort and eat dessert at four or five in the morning? Are you serious?"  
 _  
"Absolutely_ serious. Ryan, can you think of a _better_ waste of our time in these _unholy hours of hell?"_  
  
Well. He couldn't exactly argue with that logic. Honestly, he doubted she'd even _let_ him argue. Besides, she'd helped him out, so he could keep her company until the others woke up...  
  
"Give me ten minutes to clean up in the washroom, and I'll meet ya' in the kitchen."  
  
"That's the spirit! Party fort with Ryan, woo!"  
  
Actually, as he passed the blankets to her and they split off down the hallways, he realized a fort was probably appropriate. A space they could build to keep them safe, right? From all of the battles' losses, from the enemies in the night... It wasn't perfect, but like she'd said: It was just somewhere to hunker down with a friend until the storm passed...

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave kudos or a comment (even anon!) <333


End file.
